


proper care and handling

by anirondack



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Dom Katsuki Yuuri, Dom/sub, Grinding, I Really Want To Emphasize: Sub Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Post-Canon, Pre-Move To Russia, Semi-Public Sex, Service Submission, Skate Kink, Sub Victor Nikiforov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anirondack/pseuds/anirondack
Summary: “Victor.”“Yuuri,” Victor says.Eros eros eros,Yuuri tells himself, but somewhere along the lines,eroshad turned intoVictor. AndVictor Victor Victoris as good a reason as Yuuri’s ever had for doing anything in his twenty-four years, so he slides one skate forward a couple inches and says, “Take care of it for me.”I think there aren't enough fics about Victor licking Yuuri's skates, so here we are.





	

Yuuri skates along the wall, his fingers skimming the plexiglass like he’s a beginner again, holding onto something solid to keep from tumbling over. He’s on his third cool-down lap on his own, and he can feel his muscles starting to relax with the knowledge that he won’t be forcing them into anymore jumps today. His fingertips skip over the divots that the entrance gates leave when they’re all sealed up; he sees Victor on the other side of them, in the warm up room, one foot propped on the metal bench, tying his shoe. His skates are lying on the bench next to him - he hasn’t put his guards back on yet, and the gold contrasts with the dull silver-gray of benches that have seen some wear in their time. A knot of anxiety that Yuuri’s been nursing all practice gets a little bit tighter in his stomach. He skates away again.

He has to admit to himself by the fifth lap of cool-down that he’s stalling. He cooled down with Victor already, even though it takes less for Victor when he spends most of his time skating circles around Yuuri to correct positioning and pick him up when he falls out of a jump. Victor looks up at him as he passes and offers him a small smile and the knot squeezes again.

He doesn’t have to do this. He didn’t last practice, or the one before it. Victor doesn’t expect anything of him other than honesty, and if he gets off the ice and puts his shoes on and does his stretches, Victor will see that for what it is. They’ll go home and soak in the hot spring and watch soccer with Yuuri’s father and Victor’s hand will cover his for the entire meal.

Yuuri swallows hard as he starts his sixth lap.

Victor is ready to go, he knows. He can see him standing by the gate, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder, scrolling on his phone. Yuuri turns around and skates backwards for a bit, letting the wall guide him, so that he can watch Victor without Victor watching him. His bangs fall in his face, obscuring the top half of his expression, but the bottom half boasts a small, amused smile at whoever’s Instagram he’s looking at.

Yuuri rounds the last corner, tapping the colored stripe in the wall as he passes it, and when he gets to the gate, he stops much more sharply than he needs to and reaches over to pull the gate latch up. Victor looks up at the sound and his smile softens and widens when his attention diverts from his phone to Yuuri. “There you are. I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost and thought you’d just started practice.”

Yuuri laughs, nervous and a little thin. His skate guards are sitting on the edge of the wall, waiting for him, but he picks them up as he passes to go sit down on the bench Victor had been using. Victor watches Yuuri move, and then looks at the guards, and then back.

“The ice is messy today,” Yuuri comments. “You leave so many toe pick indents, it looks like it snowed.”

Victor gives him a self-deprecating grin and pushes bangs out of his face. “Your stops weren’t as clean as they could have been. You’re making shave ice for the triplets.”

“I should hope not.” Yuuri’s fingers worry at the edge of the bench. There’s a very limited time he has to initiate this, before the ice all melts away and there’s nothing left but to leave. He glances up at Victor, who’s leaning against the wall in front of him, but with a forced casualness that belies how completely un-casual he’s feeling. “Victor.”

“Yuuri,” Victor says.

 _Eros eros eros_ , Yuuri tells himself, but somewhere along the lines, _eros_ had turned into _Victor_. And _Victor Victor Victor_ is as good a reason as Yuuri’s ever had for doing anything in his twenty-four years, so he slides one skate forward a couple inches and says, “Take care of it for me.”

Victor’s breath catches noticeably in his chest. Yuuri has to look at his chest, because if he looks any higher, he’ll see the gentle blush settling on Victor’s cheekbones and the way his lips part slightly as he sets his phone and his duffel bag on the floor and steps forward until he’s hovering over Yuuri. His hands twist in the seam of his jacket, and then Yuuri finally looks up, because Victor is waiting.

“Clean my skates up, Victor,” he says, a little louder, and thank gods it’s late at night and that Ice Castle Hasetsu has been closed to the public for hours. The idea that someone could hear that makes Yuuri flush too, even more than he had been, but no one will - this is just for him and Victor.

Victor clears his throat delicately, and then clears it again, and then says, “Okay,” but his voice isn’t as strong as he usually likes it to be. He drops down on one knee and runs his hand down Yuuri’s shin to his skate, and then Yuuri reaches out and pushes on Victor’s shoulder until he goes down on both knees to keep his balance. Victor’s next breath is an audible one and one that Yuuri stores away for later, to relive over and over again. Victor curls one hand around the heel of Yuuri’s skate and the other around the ankle, careful not touch the blade. A drop of water falls and splashes silently on the rubbery ground under them; Victor might not notice, but Yuuri does, and Victor’s time is nearly out if the ice is melting that fast.

“I told you to clean my skates up,” Yuuri says, a little louder than before. "Not stare at them." His voice is strong because Victor isn’t looking him in the eye; if he were, there might be a _please_ tacked onto the end, or he might not have asked at all. But Victor’s head is bowed, like he knows it should be, and he lifts Yuuri’s leg up and bends himself down a little. Yuuri’s calf muscles whine but Yuuri’s brain can’t think about that, because when he tilts his foot outward a little, Victor leans down and drags his tongue from the toe pick down to the point at the heel, shucking off the melting ice scrapings from the rink. Victor doesn’t seem to be breathing and Yuuri unexpectedly finds that he himself still is. He feels so light headed watching this that he wouldn’t be surprised to find that he'd forgotten how.

Victor’s hands delicately tilt Yuuri’s foot the other way. He tries to raise it higher so he can reach better, but the hand that was resting on Victor’s shoulder moves to his head and Yuuri pushes down lightly on it in admonishment. “Victor,” he warns, and Victor shivers a little and brushes his nose against the toe of Yuuri’s skate.

He licks along this side of the blade too, which has more ice on it than the instep did. He gets a little indulgent, taking three tries this time to clear the blade, but Yuuri doesn’t stop him. Victor’s head dips low, leaning nearly to the floor so he can get the back of the blade, and Yuuri’s foot is shifted a little. Yuuri looks down and the knuckles of the hand that was clenching the bench get paler as he realizes that Victor has the back of the blade in his mouth. His blood is too hot for his body and he has the abrupt, hysterical thought that he’s going to evaporate the ice on the other skate before Victor even gets to it, and that makes him grab a handful of Victor’s hair and pull him up. Victor arches up, head tilted back a little, making Yuuri hold his hair tighter to keep his grip up, but when he opens his eyes, they’re dark and there’s more black than blue in the middle.

“You didn’t finish,” Yuuri says. He reaches his other foot forward - he can’t believe he’s doing this, _here_ of all places, with _Victor_ of all people, but he’s doing it - and lifts it slowly, then sets it down in Victor’s lap. Victor is wearing athletic pants, which aren’t particularly tight fitting, but they don’t hide the fact that there’s a bulge in them now. Yuuri finds it and presses in very gently with his toe pick.

Victor hisses loudly, but his eyelashes flutter and his entire body moves in a sort of wave, pulling away from the sensation and then pushing back into it harder. Yuuri shifts his foot a little, rubbing maybe half an inch up and then half an inch down, giving the illusion of movement more than any actual movement, but it’s clearly enough for Victor, whose hands are visibly trembling a little.

"Victor, you didn’t finish,” Yuuri repeats, and he meets Victor’s eyes this time because he knows what it’ll do to Victor. Victor darts his tongue out to wet cold lips and his head ducks a little again, like he’s powerless to hold it up in the face of Yuuri’s orders. This time, he scoots back and he doesn’t even lift Yuuri’s leg. He just leans down, until his chest is practically flush with the floor, and licks at the blade. It’s more water than ice right now, but there are still bits of white clinging to the metal and it’s still cold, and they both know that the ice isn’t the point. Victor clears the blade in the first try, but he goes over it again because he wants to, and Yuuri gives his hair a stroke as a reward.

Instead of turning Yuuri’s ankle again, Victor takes a kneeling step to the left and bends down again. His ass is in the air so he can reach Yuuri’s skate better and Yuuri has to take a second to deal with that before he does back to dealing with Victor’s cheek pressed into the ground. He sees the pink of Victor’s tongue poking out of his mouth and the dark mirror of Victor’s mouth in his skate blade as that too is wiped clean. There’s a small but definite oval puddle from the ice melting that Yuuri doesn’t like to leave anywhere he skates - he knows it’ll evaporate, or be wiped up, but it feels like bad manners. But his blades are shiny and clean and Victor is still kneeling, chest flat on the ground, and he places small, soft kisses along the eyelets that Yuuri’s laces run through. Yuuri watches him for a moment, a little slack-jawed, and there’s a situation starting to present itself in his own pants, but this is for Victor more than it is for him.

“Don’t forget my guards,” he orders. Victor’s eyes snap up to his and Yuuri gives another tug to his hair, and then Victor gracefully unfolds himself to kneel upright. He doesn’t rise to his feet, but he knee-walks the few feet to the side of the bench and grabs Yuuri’s skate guards, then brings them over and settles back into a kneel.

He takes one of Yuuri’s skates in his hands, sliding long fingers around the leather to the back, and lifts Yuuri’s leg up again. He rests the blade on his thigh and looks up at Yuuri through his hair and his eyelashes and says softly, “May I?”

“Yes, you can,” Yuuri says. Victor nods and picks up one guard, then lifts Yuuri’s foot an inch and carefully snaps the guard over the blade. He runs his fingers reverently down the side of the plastic, then sets Yuuri’s foot down and picks up the other one. Yuuri helps more than perhaps he should, but he makes up for it by digging the back point into Victor’s thigh gently when Victor picks up the other guard without asking. Victor hisses again softly and drops the guard.

“ _Ah_ – may I, Yuuri?” he asks, and he’s breathless like he’s just done a jump, not like they’ve been sitting here nearly motionless for the past few minutes. Yuuri’s touch turns gentle again and he brushes Victor’s bangs out of his eyes again to touch his cheek.

“You may.” Victor nods and picks up the guard again and lifts Yuuri’s leg, and the other guard slides into place. When Yuuri sets his foot down again, the ground feels a little more solid, now that he’s got over an inch to balance on. “Good job, Victor.”

Victor makes a very soft noise at that. It sounds like, if it had more air behind it, it might have been a whimper. It speaks of desperation and pleasure in the same breath, the same beat of a noise, that Yuuri files away for later as well, tucking it into his ever growing knowledge of what Victor sounds like when he’s falling hard.

“Yuuri,” he whispers. He leans forward and presses his forehead to Yuuri’s knee and rocks forward, hunching his shoulders a little. His hands curl around Yuuri’s ankles - the skin under the skates chafes, and there’s a bruise there from falling earlier, and he should really take these off, but Victor isn’t done yet, and if Victor isn’t done then Yuuri never will be either - and he rocks forward and back, shifting restlessly. “Yuuri…”

“Victor,” Yuuri says back. He runs fingers through Victor’s hair and then hooks fingers under his jawbone and tilts his head up.

Victor stares up at him hazily and leans his head to the side a little so that Yuuri’s palm will cup his cheek. In a different setting, he might be subtly asking Yuuri to push him harder, but this is the ice and the ice is hard enough as it is, so Yuuri just strokes his thumb along Victor’s cheek.

“Yuuri,” Victor mumbles again. He tries to push forward again, to shuffle between Yuuri’s thighs, but Yuuri stops him with another handful of hair.

“You have to speak, Victor,” he says, kind but firm. “Talk to me.”

“Yuuri, please,” Victor says immediately. He rocks forward again, and this time, Yuuri reaches forward with both hands and pushes Victor’s shoulders down until he settles back into a kneel, ass resting on his heels.

From here, Yuuri can see that the bulge from earlier has only gotten more pronounced, and he reaches down and taps it with one finger. “Is this what you’re worked up over?” he asks.

Victor nods. He’s trying his best to stay still and Yuuri can see that, but he’s never been good at it outside of a performance, and this isn’t a performance for Victor. It’s not even a performance for Yuuri anymore.

“What do you need, then, Victor?” Yuuri asks. He tilts Victor’s chin up again, so that Victor can look at him and only at him. “I need to know.”

“I need you,” Victor answers instantly. “Yuuri, please, I need…” He trails off a little and then presses himself against Yuuri’s legs, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s calves and hugging them tightly.

“I can’t help you unless you tell me, Victor,” Yuuri says. He twists his voice to make it sound calm and even, even though his heart is hammering in his ears and he can barely hear himself. Victor squirms and Yuuri feels pressure against the laces of one of his skates. Victor’s hips roll forward a little, a stuttery jerk of a movement that Yuuri can tell isn’t intentional at all, but as soon as Victor does it, he buries his face in Yuuri’s thighs and makes that noise again. It’s louder this time, and Yuuri can tell it is a whimper.

“Is that what you want, Victor?” Yuuri asks. He runs his fingers through Victor’s hair again, then settles his hand at the back of Victor’s neck. “You want to bring yourself off against my skates?”

Victor breathes in sharply through his nose, and then Yuuri is treated to a soft, throaty moan. Victor rubs his cheek against Yuuri’s thigh, but Yuuri wants Victor to look at him, so he squeezes the back of Victor’s neck. When Victor doesn’t look up, Yuuri has to pull his hair again, but that drags another moan out of Victor, who looks very disheveled now, and it’s very, very distracting to see him look like that.

“I asked you a question,” Yuuri says softly. His voice sounds like hesitance to him, but to Victor, it sounds like danger.

“Yes,” Victor says immediately. He’s still having trouble not moving, and Yuuri can feel it in the tiny changes of pressure against his skates.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I– I want to bring myself off against your skates,” Victor says, going pink again. Victor doesn’t get embarrassed, but he does get caught up in things, and right now he’s very caught up in Yuuri and the words are a little harder for him to get out.

“There you are,” Yuuri says. “Good, Victor.” Victor preens at the praise and his spine straightens a little. “If you want that, then you can have that.”

“Oh,” Victor breathes. “Yuuri, thank you.”

“Of course,” Yuuri says earnestly. “Anything. I know you’ll be good for me.”

Victor nods eagerly, and he shuffles his thighs apart a little. Yuuri can see part of Victor’s erection, dark blue through his pants against the black of Yuuri’s skate, and then Victor’s thighs close in around Yuuri’s skates and Victor ruts forward again. This time, it’s deliberate, and this time, Yuuri can feel Victor’s cock grind up along the laces, catching a little on every cross and pushing on. Yuuri doesn’t think that it must be comfortable in any way, but Victor lets out a low cry and hides his face in Yuuri’s thighs again.

“Ah, no,” Yuuri says. He tilts Victor’s head to the side, so that his cheek is on Yuuri’s knee instead. “I want to hear.”

“Yes– ah– yes, Yuuri,” Victor says, stumbling a little. He breathes something else in Russian that Yuuri doesn’t catch or doesn’t know, and then his hips snap forward and he ruts sharply against the lace panels again.

“There we go. That’s very good,” Yuuri tells him, and that drags another whine out of Victor. Yuuri strokes Victor's hair and his cheek and his neck as he grinds down. The pressure against the front of Yuuri’s skates is new and unusual and not altogether comfortable, but the sound of Victor’s soft, hoarse cries isn’t, and Yuuri can never help but do his best to draw those out.

It doesn’t seem to take too long for Victor to get close. His flush extends down his neck and he looks a little sweaty again. Yuuri thinks to himself that they’ll need to take another couple laps to cool down again, and then pushes that thought away before he can accidentally laugh. Victor’s fingertips dig hard into his calves and his breathing comes fast and sharp and he looks up with dark, trusting eyes at Yuuri. “Yuuri…”

“Do you want to come?” Yuuri asks him.

“Yes,” Victor breathes, then corrects himself. “Yes, I want to come.”

“Good,” Yuuri says fondly. “I also want that.” He gives Victor’s shoulder a little squeeze, then leans forward and kisses his forehead. “You can go right ahead.”

Victor’s _thank you_  is strangled and his movements are erratic. He reaches for Yuuri’s hand and Yuuri finds him and laces their fingers together. He strokes the back of Victor’s hand, over thin tendons and delicate veins, as Victor gasps sharply and then chokes out several loud, frantic moans. They echo around the hard edges of Ice Castle Hasetsu and rebound into Yuuri’s ears, surrounding him with the sound of Victor’s pleasure as Victor writhes against his legs below him. Now _he’s_ the one who feels overwhelmed, and all he can really do is watch and keep touching Victor as he rides the aftershocks through several violent shudders and then goes still, panting hard against Yuuri’s knees.

Yuuri immediately scoots to the side and drops himself onto the ground. He reaches out to Victor and pulls him against his chest and Victor drapes himself all over Yuuri, nuzzling at his neck. “That was very good, _solnyshko_ ,” he murmurs against Yuuri’s throat. “Very good.”

“Well, good,” Yuuri says. He runs a hand up Victor’s back and then back down. “You were very good too.”

Victor looks very pleased with the both of them. He’s still a little shaky, though, so they stay sitting on the floor, Victor wrapped up in Yuuri’s arms, until Victor can stand again. Victor pets idly at Yuuri’s thigh and then taps a fingertip against Yuuri’s own half-hard cock, which is still pressing gently against the front of his practice pants. “Shall I take care of this for you?”

“Oh, no,” Yuuri says. “Not here. That would be…”

“I understand,” Victor says.

“Back at home, though…”

Victor grins up at him. “Excellent.” He squeezes Yuuri, then slowly stands up and reaches for his duffel bag. He digs a couple tissues out of his box and unceremoniously shoves them down his pants to clean himself up a little, then balls them up and shoves them back into the bag.

“Don’t you want to change?” Yuuri asks, dragging his skates off.

“I’ll race you to the shower at Yu-topia,” Victor replies, his smile wide and exhilarated on his face, and he darts out of the warm-up room in the direction of the skate rentals. Yuuri watches him go and laughs, then quickly tugs his shoes on and shoves his gear in his bag to chase after him.


End file.
